Fangirls
by Holy Song
Summary: A France-centric one-shot based on humorous facts about King Louis XIV.


Wow. Another one-shot. I probably should actually write some of my existing stories. I'm sorry. So sorry! Please don't kill me!

Anyway, this is based on King Louis XIV of France. I heard an…interesting story from my world history teacher, and immediately thought of France. So…enjoy? I guess. Maybe.

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><p>It started as an ordinary day. The glorious sun's rays shone with perfect precision through an opening in the heavy curtains, illuminating even the tiniest specs of dust particles floating around the room. This bright light successfully woke France from his beauty sleep. Yawning contentedly, he cracked his eyes open a bit so that he could better see the beautiful room he was in. Well, naturally, it was the best in the world because it was French. The hand-crafted furniture was embedded with the finest of all ores and stones, carved from the most perfect wood found in France. At this moment, he could see the sunlight dance playfully along the floor and walls, which were also decorated elegantly. Yes, it would be another lovely day in Versailles.<p>

France sat up in his bed, stretching. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips, causing someone else in the room to jump.

"Ah!" a female voice gasped. This, in turn, caused France to jump, as he was most definitely _not_ expecting anyone to be in his room. At least this morning.

Not sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere that had immediately settled in the room, the girl rushed over to France's bedside and held out a bundle. Puzzled and slightly afraid, he accepted it. "Your clothes," she said, bowing deeply.

France was confused, to say the least. He had just been handed his clothes by a girl whom he'd never before seen. Hadn't he locked his door last night? "Uh…who are you?" he asked her.

A hurt look came over her face, but she quickly hid it. "Oh! I'm a Marie, a noble."

"…Why are you here?"

"Because, sir…you've forced all of the nobles to in this palace with you." Her response was phrased like a question, and France could tell that she was questioning his sanity.

"No, no. I meant: why are you _in my room_?" he asked, torn between wanting her out of his room and wanting her in his bed.

"To be able to hand you your clothing in the morning is the greatest honor, sir," she replied and bowed deeply yet again.

_That didn't answer my question_, he thought.

"Now, I must be going. I was with great pleasure that I spoke with you." As she finished her sentence, she fled the room, leaving France no time to retort and ask why, exactly, she'd ended up handing him his clothes.

After she was out of earshot, France mumbled, "Aw, poo. I didn't even get to cuddle with her…"

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><p>Following that line of strange events, France proceeded to prepare himself for the day, which included eating breakfast. Crêpes seemed to be on the menu this morning. When he sat down at the table, however, he found himself unable to enjoy the meal. This was because the other nobles that were already seated suddenly leaned in slightly with widening eyes, like they were young children getting ready to meet Santa Claus. This made him uncomfortable, and he asked, "What are you doing?"<p>

The only continued watching him, none daring to make a noise. Their expressions ranged from awe to shock, which is just strange, no matter what, in this situation. "Wh-why are you watching me?" he asked again, tugging on his collar. Was it getting hot in here? Maybe he was just hotter than usual. Either way, being stared down did cause at least some form of self-consciousness, even to the shameless France.

Still, the faces didn't change. Some moved their chairs closer to him. At this, France stood up, laughing nervously, and said, "Well, this has been fun. I'll just be…going…now…" The faces of the people fell, but France paid no attention to them and rushed out of the room.

_I think I'll just take a walk_, he thought to himself. He made a U-turn in the hallway that he was in and headed toward the gardens.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors that led outside, he stepped into the illustrious gardens filled with flowers of every kind. Fountains provided a serene sound that calmed his nerves and strange feelings. The cobblestone pathways that twisted and turned through the fields of flowers and large, god-like trees clacked under his feet as he walked. He was so entranced by the beauty of Versailles that he did not hear the other footsteps until it was too late.

Joyous whispers filled the air, and France broke out of his stupor, finally noticing the others around him. Hundreds of them. The nobles.

"Gyah!" he shouted, startled. The nobles formed a perfect circle around him, each person carefully inching in on him ever-so-slowly. "_What are you doing_?"

A unified murmur broke the short silence that followed his words, each explaining why they were here. Finally, a lone stalker exclaimed, "We need to be with you, O Great France! To boost our status and to receive your grace!"

France then came to a realization. F-fangirls? That was it? He had _fangirls_? Well, more than usual.

Yes, he had fangirls.

"Well, then. I suppose this isn't _all_ bad…" With his lips forming a slightly—which is meant to be read as "very"—creepy smile, France sauntered over to the nearest fan, who just so happened to be a small boy. Not that he cared who it was. This boy smiled happily, with bright eyes, and began to say something, but France cut him off by mumbling something along the lines of, "Young boy…I like young boys…"

Because France cannot be trusted to keep a story rated "T", this one-shot will end here, sparing you of the details of his rendezvous with his fans. Oh, how he loves his fans. What a nice guy, right?

Right.

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><p>And that's it. France scares the crap out of me. Really. And yet, he's too hilarious to dislike. Oh, France-y Pants. I love you~.<p>

My history teacher had said that, after King Louis XIV forced all of the nobility to live in the palace in Versailles, a good way to boost their status was to get closer to the king. This meant that they pretty much became Louis's bitches. One of the greatest honors was to be able to hand him his clothes when he woke up in the morning, and if you walked the closest to him, you were immediately the best of the group. Also, as a side note, because the fountains in the gardens used so much water, they couldn't keep them on. Instead, a person would watch as the king walked and turn on each fountain as he neared it, turning off the previous one as well. He had them whipped, didn't he?

Oh, Louis XIV. Gotta love him.

Please review and leave your comments. I always appreciate them because of my excessive paranoia regarding my stories. Thanks for reading! I love you!

Bye.


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